


Bleeding Out

by kilgraves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, I dk I needed to write it, I feel like Isaac would have a history with cutting since his past is so horrible, I just feel bad putting him through shit because he's my baby, M/M, also hey if you squint there's sterek, this is really really angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kilgraves/pseuds/kilgraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“So if the last thing that I do is bring you down, I’ll bleed out for you.”</em> Isaac has never had anyone around to take care of him – but now, he has Scott.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeding Out

**Author's Note:**

> I feel kind of guilty posting this, because the promo for 3x06 has baby Isaac in a freezer again and ugh he just can't seem to catch a break. I feel bad putting him through shit because he's my favorite, but I also feel like he'd have a history with cutting since his past is so awful. Don't hate me for this, please.  
> Also, the title and lyrics in the summary are from "Bleeding Out" by Imagine Dragons.

The first time Isaac Lahey cuts himself, he is fourteen years old.

His father has let him out of the freezer – after three hours of loneliness and screaming and sobbing – and allowed him to go to his room for the rest of the night. Isaac sits on his bed, tears staining his cheeks; dried blood caked under his fingernails from his attempts to get out of his father’s makeshift prison cell. He feels more alone than he’s ever felt in his life, completely without hope. He tries to tell himself that it’s all okay, because at least it’s over for now, at least he can breathe and rest and not worry – if only for a night.

But it isn’t over. His mind won’t shut up, the thoughts won’t go away. His dad’s words – _useless, lazy, pathetic, stupid, faggot, worthless_ – play over and over, a constant loop of slurs and insults. The paralyzing chill of the freezer… he can’t forget it, any of it – not for a second. He squeezes his eyes shut, head in his hands, trying to clear his mind, to make it stop, to just have _quiet_. He counts to thirty, whispering each number under his breath, rubbing his eyelids in an attempt to blot everything else out.

When he opens his eyes again, a glint of silver catches his attention. He looks over at his desk across the room, and sees it. Found while cleaning out the shed a few weeks ago, Isaac had kept it without really knowing why. His legs are shaky, his hands even more so, as he stands, moving to pick it up.

The bathroom is small and when he glances at his reflection in the mirror, he _feels_ small. His breath comes in shallow bursts, but he isn’t afraid. Even as he pulls his sleeve up, exposing pale, un-marred skin. Even as he drags the blade across his wrist, watching the thin lines turn scarlet with pricks of blood.

The first cut is shallow, but Isaac makes sure the ones that follow aren’t. He bites his lip, pushing and dragging, watching the blood run down his arm, hitting the ivory sink. The pain is nothing, but the control, the peace that he feels is worth everything. He feels waves of relief – something he hasn’t felt in ages – washing over him, and it’s what he needs, what he’s _craved_ for so long.

After that first time, it turns into a cycle, a routine. He fucks up, dad yells, freezer for hours, five new cuts. His arm becomes covered in angry red lines, new and old, fresh and healing. At school, he’ll wear long sleeved shirts during PE, and he’ll hear people whispering about him. It’s not the first time he’s been a topic of conversation for the students at Beacon Hills Middle School, but it is the first time it’s been because of something he’s done to _himself_ , rather than his dad beating up on him. Knowing that is what makes him not care what people say or think.

One night, his father sees the scars.

Isaac is washing the dishes, his sleeves rolled up, not really processing the fact that his dad is watching him. When he sees them, Isaac tries to cover it up, saying that he got caught in a rosebush on the way to school, but it’s too late. His dad grabs him by the arm, yanks his sleeve up and Isaac wants to die. He asks him why he did it, why he does it, and when Isaac says nothing, he slaps him, hard and quick and painful.

“Is it because you enjoy pain?” His dad growls, holding his son by his hair now, “I think you _must_ , if you spend all your goddamn free time slashing up your own arms. You must _crave_ pain - you’re fucking pathetic.”

Isaac tries to explain himself, but his father silences his protests with a punch to the gut, causing the boy to curl in on himself and fall to the floor. Even though he kicks and screams and tries to fight, his dad is stronger than him.

He lasts two hours in the freezer before passing out.

When Isaac meets Derek – nearly two years later – everything changes. He’s finally rid of his dad, of the pain and the fear that used to define him. He finally belongs; he’s _pack_. The strength and power is exactly what he’s always wanted, and having a group of people he can truly depend on is more than he could ever ask for. It all becomes a part of his life in a whirlwind, but the most unexpected aspect of his new life – that’s _really_ saying something – is his relationship with Scott McCall. It sort of comes out of nowhere, and it definitely wasn’t something he had been looking for – but Scott soon becomes essential to his happiness. Isaac has never taken the time to figure out what his sexuality is, and Scott has only dated girls – but they develop a bond that neither of them has ever had with anyone else before.

Erica is the first to notice, which doesn’t come as a surprise to Isaac at all. She’s the closest thing he’s ever had to a sister, and knows him pretty well.

“So, you and McCall are fucking, right?” Isaac nearly chokes on the water he just took a drink of, while Erica folds her arms across her chest expectantly. “Well?”

Isaac meets her gaze, trying hard to keep his face straight, “What, uh, what makes you think that?”

Raising an eyebrow, Erica lets out a short laugh and then replies, “No reason – except you’re always with him, you smell like him all the time, and I can hear the two of you in your room some nights.”

Isaac blushes.

Boyd follows soon after Erica, casually asking Isaac if he watches gay porn at night. When Isaac reveals that it’s not porn, it’s him and Scott, Boyd turns bright red and doesn’t speak a word about it again. Derek never comes to Isaac and asks, but it’s obvious that he knows. Isaac’s pretty sure that he shares this information with Stiles, because soon enough, Stiles’ ears go scarlet whenever Isaac mentions Scott. It’s not a big deal or anything like that, because he knows that he’s pack and they’re all just looking out for him.

Things are really, really, unbelievably good for a while. Scott is a great boyfriend, the pack are amazing friends, and Isaac is happy. Happier than he can remember feeling in a very long time. His favorite part of it all is the camaraderie, the fierce loyalty, and the sense that you’re never alone, no matter what. Isaac’s never had real, close friends before, so he can’t stress enough how grateful he is to have what he has now.

He still has nightmares, he still has panic attacks, he still can’t deal with being in closed spaces – but he’s healing. Scott is always there – to hold his hand, kiss his hair, whisper soothing words into his ear, and make sure that he’s okay.

“I don’t deserve you,” Isaac breathes, one night when he’s had a particularly vivid nightmare and is wrapped up in Scott’s arms.

He feels Scott tense at his words, “Why would you say that?”

Isaac shrugs sleepily, his mind hazy with drowsiness, “You’re amazing, and I’m just me. I’m,” he lets out a quiet yawn, “I’m messed up.”

Scott’s eyebrows furrow, and he shakes his head, “It’s not about who deserves who. I love you, and that’s all that matters.” Isaac nods, eyes fluttering shut, before Scott adds, “Plus, you’re kind of perfect. Seriously, babe, no worries.”

“I love you, too,” Isaac murmurs, softly, clinging to the omega like he’s the only thing left on the planet.

The taller boy falls asleep in the midst of Scott pressing kisses to his forehead.

But, as seems to be the pattern these days, things don’t stay good for long. There’s an alpha pack in town that are out for blood and strange murders occurring nearly every week. Erica and Boyd are stolen from them, kept in a bank vault for months, and worst of all; Erica is killed before they can save them.

When Isaac first learns that Erica is dead, he isn’t able to process it, not really. Strong, confident, beautiful, wonderful Erica – his friend, his _sister_ – is gone. He stops talking to Scott the way he used to. He stops talking to Derek entirely. He feels hopeless, alone, and he can’t shake the urge to cut, the urge to tear his flesh open and watch himself bleed. But he battles through it, he tells himself that there’s no use in being sad, in beating himself up over this. Things return to a semi-normal place; Isaac fakes smiles at all the right times, fakes happiness to make sure no one worries.

But then, Derek kicks him out and it’s the breaking point. Losing Erica was bad enough, but losing Derek, losing his pack, it’s another thing entirely. The only place he can think to go is Scott’s, and the omega accepts him with strong arms and comforting kisses, just like Isaac knew he would. The first night is the worst; he cries and cries to Scott, curled up against his chest like a child, and has a nightmare that makes him wake up sweating, salty tears stinging his eyes. He knows Scott is angry with Derek, he knows Stiles will be too, but Isaac can’t stop feeling like he deserves this. Like this is further punishment for whatever he did to warrant all the shit that’s happened to him since his childhood.

After a week or so, the urges become nearly unbearable. Isaac can’t stop thinking about blood, about the relief that comes with slicing into his skin. He stays home from school one day, telling Scott that he just wants a day to sleep and gather his thoughts. Scott’s eyes are worried, like he knows that something is wrong, but Isaac insists that he’ll be fine. At first, Isaac does sleep. He burrows under the covers in Scott’s bed, shutting out the light streaming in through the window above him. He doesn’t want to give in; he doesn’t want to hurt himself. He takes comfort in the lingering scent of Scott, and lets it lull him into a gentle slumber.

Two hours later, he’s awake and anxious as all hell. He can’t stop pacing, can’t still his breathing patterns or calm his racing heartbeat. It’s like he can feel all of the bad things that have happened to him, like they’re manifesting themselves – eating away at him. He tries all of his usual methods; he counts to thirty, he closes his eyes and breathes, trying to find quiet – but it’s no use.

God, he wishes Scott were here.

He walks downstairs to the kitchen like a zombie. When he finds what he’s looking for – a thin, sharp knife from the drawer under the counter – he goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he observes that he’s a bit paler than usual – but he still looks just like himself, just like Isaac. He tears his eyes away from the pallid reflection, sitting down on the cold tile floor, pulling up his sleeve as he does. A strange feeling of anticipation runs through him, he’s… excited. And that scares him more than anything.

Metal slips easily against flesh, red blooming where it glides.

Isaac breathes, content, and feels warmth wash over him. Blood hits the white tile of the floor, running down his arm, dangerously beautiful. When he looks down to inspect the cut he’s made, he realizes that it’s healing. _Fuck, how could he have forgotten about the healing?_ Werewolves don’t scar. He feels so pathetic, more than he’s ever felt before, as he watches the thin line close up, slowly drying blood all that remains.

Slamming the knife to the floor, he kicks at the cabinet under the sink, hands flying up to cover his eyes and ears as he rocks back and forth. He’s so tired, so, so, so tired, and he needs something to stop the constant thoughts, the self-loathing. He isn’t sure how long he stays like that, legs pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them, head resting on his knees, but he counts to three-hundred-fifty-two before he raises his head again.

The knife’s handle is rough in his hand, the blade smooth on his skin, as he cuts and cuts and cuts. He doesn’t care about the blood staining the tile beneath him, he doesn’t care about the fact that the cuts start to heal seconds after he makes them, doesn’t care that his tears are mixing with the red dripping down his arms – he just keeps cutting. He loses count of how many times he drags the cool metal across his wrist. The initial sting of pain that comes with each slash, each drop of blood, is what he needs, what he deserves. He wants to mark his entire body, to leave lasting scars and not care who sees them, but he fucking can’t.

As he pulls his sleeve up further for fresh places to cut, he hears the sound of the front door opening, and freezes.

“Isaac!” Scott’s voice calls, anxious and frenzied, like he ran all the way from school, which he probably did. “Isaac, where are you?”

The beta tries to stay quiet, to hide from Scott, before realizing that he doesn’t want to. “I’m here,” he whispers under his breath.

He knows Scott hears him and lets his head fall back against the wall behind him, listening to the sounds of his footsteps as he gets closer and closer to the bathroom, until–

“Oh, fuck, baby, what did you do?”

Scott’s voice is pained, not judgmental, and it makes Isaac feel small, knowing that he’s made Scott worry over something as trivial as his stupid problems. The shorter boy kneels down beside him, eyes darting from Isaac’s marred but healing arm to the blood stains on the tile to the knife in his shaking hand.

“ _Isaac,_ ” his tone is so genuine, so full of care and understanding, it makes Isaac want to curl up into a ball and cry. “Baby, it’s okay, alright? It’s okay now. Just… Just talk to me. I’m right here, talk to me. Please?”

Isaac glances up at him, and it’s the look in his eyes that makes him break. He drops the knife, reaching out for Scott, who takes him in his warm, strong arms without a second’s thought, holding him tight. Isaac cries into his shoulder, breathing in the earthy scent of his perfect, wonderful boyfriend and feeling overwhelmed.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs, brokenly and without any reserve, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t g-get it to work. They kept healing, and I… I-I just… I’m _sorry_.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Scott strokes Isaac’s back, kissing his temple gently, trying to understand, “But… why would you want that? You’re so much better than this, you mean so much to me.”

Isaac shakes his head, nose buried in the soft skin of Scott’s collarbone, voice muffled, “I don’t mean anything. I used to f-feel like I did, but now…” He chokes on a sob, clinging to Scott desperately, “Erica is gone, and D-Derek doesn’t want me anymore. I d-don’t have a home, I don’t h-have anyone.”

The omega’s voice is hurt when he speaks again, “You have _me_. I know that isn’t much comfort or whatever, but it’s true. I know that you miss Erica. I know how important she was to you. I know how much you miss the pack, and I wish Derek hadn’t done what he did to you. But you have me, and you’ll _always_ have me. I promise I’ll always be here for you.”

“I just wish it would all s-stop,” Isaac whispers, his sobs calming down slowly as Scott kisses his hair, “I don’t like feeling the way I do. I want to f-feel like a person again. I miss being happy, like I used to be.”

“I know, baby,” Scott soothes, “I wish I could help more, but all I can tell you is that it _will_ be okay. You just have to keep going, all right? For me. Because I need you and I will do _anything_ to keep you safe. I love you, pup.”

Isaac smiles and leans up to press his lips to Scott’s, “I love you more.”

“Impossible,” Scott argues, grinning warmly and wiping the remnants of Isaac’s tears off of his cheeks.

After a few more minutes of cuddling and talking, Scott cleans up the bathroom and returns the knife to its place in the kitchen cabinet. He walks with Isaac up to his room, gives him a clean (one that’s not stained with blood) shirt to wear and brings his computer over to the bed. Isaac snuggles up against him, head resting on Scott’s chest, as Scott pulls up an episode of “Batman: the Animated Series” on the internet. It’s Isaac’s favorite, sometimes it’s all it takes to cheer him up. This is one of those times.

Isaac is quiet while they watch the show, save for a few whispered pet names and “I love you’s”. His mind wanders back to one of the first conversations he had with Derek, on the night of a full moon. The alpha had told him that the key to not shifting during the full moon was to find an anchor that keeps you grounded. Something that can clear your head and remind you that you’re human and that everything is going to be okay.

Looking up at Scott, Isaac realizes that _he’s_ his anchor.

He’s all he needs.


End file.
